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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 90

Chapter 90

‘I‌‍⁠ didn’t expect this​⁠‍ at all.’

Was⁠ it always supposed​‌‌ to be this‍‌​ way?

Or⁠ perhaps, due to​​ some butterfly effect‌‍‌ Fernan didn’t know‌​​ about, had the⁠⁠‍ future changed?

There⁠ was no mention‌​ of this in‍‌ the book of‍‍⁠ prophecies, which was‌​ a bit problematic.‍​‌

Though,‍ in truth, for‌ Aint and his​‍‌ growth, there was​⁠‍ nothing wrong with‍⁠ it.

‘This​‍​ changed because of⁠ my actions.’

Originally,‌ Aint was supposed‌ to face the‍ monsters and a Corruptor on the‌ battlefield.

There⁠ he would fight‌ to the death,⁠​⁠ gain experience, and​ by defeating a real Corruptor, he‍‌​ would earn fame.‍

From‍‍ that point on,⁠ he would begin​​ to be recognized⁠ as a “hero”​​ and “heir to‍‍ the First Emperor.”⁠‌⁠

In​​ that process, the​ desert clans had‌⁠​ nothing to do​⁠ with it.

But‍⁠ by Fernan saving​ the clans, the⁠​‌ story took another‍ path. Those who‌‍​ were meant to​ die as sacrifices​‌ lived to witness‌ Aint’s feats.

‘I​‍⁠ hope this doesn’t‍⁠‍ change the future‌‌‌ too much…’

The​ greatest value of⁠‍⁠ having the book‌ of prophecies was‍​‍ knowing what was‍​‌ coming and acting‌‍ accordingly.

That’s‍‌ why, except for‍ matters related to⁠ his bond with⁠‍‌ Luina, Fernan had⁠ tried not to⁠⁠‌ alter the core⁠‍⁠ plot too much.​

‘I‌‌​ can’t undo what’s​‌ happened now. The​⁠​ only thing left‌​ is to be​ grateful that at​‍‍ least it turned‍ out positively…’

“…Are‌⁠‌ you asleep?”

He​⁠​ sensed a presence​‍⁠ beside him and⁠​ opened his eyes.‌

“What‍ did you say?”⁠‍‍

“I‍⁠ asked why you‌ had your eyes‌⁠‌ closed.”

It⁠ was Luina. She​‌ was offering him‍⁠​ a piece of‌​ roasted meat. Despite‍ the festive atmosphere,‍​ her expression hadn’t‌​ changed a bit.‍⁠

“Just‌ thinking for a moment. Don’t you‍​ drink?”

“Alcohol⁠‍ makes you lower​‌⁠ your guard.”

“It’s‍‍ a party.”

Fernan‍‌ took a glass‌​​ a nomad offered⁠ and brought it‌​ close to her.​‍​

“…I‌ don’t like bitterness.”⁠‌

“Yes,‍​ it’s a strong​‌​ liquor.”

What‌​​ the desert warriors⁠‍​ drank was moonshine.‌⁠‌

It‍‌‍ was made by​‍ fermenting camel’s milk⁠​‌ and then distilling​⁠⁠ that beverage.

Finally,‍‍​ they aged it‍‍ in facilities dug‍ into the sand.‌​

‘With⁠‌ such dry skies,‍‍‍ distilling here is‌​⁠ almost like throwing​‍ money into the⁠​ sand.’

For​‌‌ the clans, it⁠ wasn’t a business;​​⁠ they did it​ simply because they‌⁠⁠ wanted something strong⁠‍⁠ to drink.

“But⁠ isn’t there also⁠‍ a fermented version?”‍

“I‍‌ can’t stand the⁠‍ taste…”

Fermented‍‍‌ camel milk was‌⁠ notorious for its‌ peculiar aroma, equally‌ loved and hated.‌​

Fernan‍‍‍ took out chocolate‌​⁠ from his subspace​⁠ and squeezed it⁠‌‍ in his hand.‍​ As it melted,​⁠ it released a fresh forest-like aroma.​⁠‍ He dropped it​‍ into the glass.‍‍

“It’ll​‌ taste better this​‍ way.”

“…”‍‍

Luina‌‌ glanced at him‌⁠⁠ sideways.

“I‍‍⁠ washed my hands.”​⁠⁠

“That’s⁠​⁠ not it, it’s‍‌ just… that chocolate,‍‌ is it from⁠‌​ Fridian?”

“Chocolate‌‍ from the bark‍ of the World​ Tree.”

“And​‍ why waste something‍ so valuable on‌⁠​ liquor?”

“Then,⁠​‌ are you not​​‍ going to drink‍‍ it?”

“…I‌‌​ will, so the⁠⁠‍ chocolate doesn’t go​ to waste.”

She‌ took a sip.‌

The‌‌‍ oak aroma of‍‍ the aged moonshine‌‌ blended with the‌ forest fragrance of‍‌‌ the chocolate.

The‌​​ initial bitterness softened‌​‍ into sweetness, surprisingly‍⁠‌ pleasant.

“…It’s‍ good.”

“The​‍​ chocolate costs more⁠ than the drink.”‍‌⁠

“…Then‌⁠​ I came out⁠ ahead.”

“Ahead?”‌‍

“It‌ wasn’t mine, but‌‌⁠ in exchange for⁠ drinking something unpleasant,⁠‌ I tasted excellent‌ chocolate.”

“…You’re​ starting to talk​‍ like a merchant.”‌‌

“I‌ guess after spending​​‍ so much time⁠‌ with one, some⁠ of it rubbed‌⁠⁠ off.”

Fernan‌ widened his eyes⁠ — he hadn’t‌​‍ expected to hear⁠⁠​ that from her.‌‌ And, honestly, it‍‌‌ didn’t sound bad.‍⁠

Then—‌​‍

Waaaah—​​‌

Beri…!‌

A commotion rose in‌ the distance. He​‌ tried to see‍‌ what was going⁠ on, but the‌ crowd blocked his‍⁠ view.

“What⁠‍ could it be?”​‌

“A⁠‌​ challenge, maybe?”

Suddenly,‌⁠ a nomad came⁠⁠ flying out of‌​⁠ the crowd, injured,‍‌​ and a familiar​‍‍ voice shouted from‍‌ behind.

“Next!”⁠⁠​

“A​‌ duel.”

“Yes,‌‍​ it’s a duel.”‌‌

“Verian?”‌⁠

“It’s‍⁠ Verian.”

Fernan⁠ and Luina looked⁠​ at each other.⁠‍⁠

A brief silence, and​​⁠ Luina let out⁠⁠ her aura, dispelling‍‍​ any trace of‌ intoxication.

“This​⁠ will be interesting.⁠⁠​ I’ve always wanted‌‍‍ to test the⁠⁠ strength of those​ who, even without‌⁠‌ mana, possess such‍​⁠ powerful bodies.”

Without‌‌‍ waiting for a reply, she headed‍ toward the arena.⁠⁠‍

— Kkung? Kkhkhkh!

Wooden‍⁠‌ had returned to‌‌ Fernan and was‌ laughing, holding his⁠​⁠ belly.

“She‌‌⁠ rejected me? Don’t​ be ridiculous.”

There⁠‍ was never such⁠​ a relationship. Fernan⁠⁠‍ gave him a light tap on‍‌ the head.

— Kkiiing!

Wooden​‍‌ let out an​​ exaggerated squeal.

‘With‌‌​ this… the desert‍ clans now become​‌‌ part of Aint’s⁠‍‌ power.’

How‌ many would there⁠‍‌ be in total?‌

***‍‍

“How‍‌ vulgar.”

The⁠ desert men were‍‌ all filthy. The​ liquor was terrible,‌ and during their​​⁠ party all they‍​‌ did was eat​ meat, drink, and​ punch each other‍‌ under the name​‍ of a “sacred⁠ duel.”

“Is​​‍ the celebration not⁠‌‌ to your liking?”⁠

“Of‍⁠ course not.”

To‍‌​ Ludger, it was‍ a barbaric display.⁠ He wanted to⁠ show them the⁠​​ true meaning of‍​ a festival.

‘No‌​‍ wonder the Empire​​ abandoned them. They’ll‍ never stop being‌ savages like this.’‌

Though​‍ the real reason‍ for his anger⁠​ was something else—that⁠ despite his significant‍⁠⁠ contribution in battle,​‌‌ the clans only‍ hailed Aint.

‘Holy⁠⁠ light? Nonsense.’

They‍‍ worshipped him, as‍​⁠ if he had⁠ recovered the lost​⁠‍ art of Armian’s‍ swordsmanship. If that‌​ were true, it‌ was extremely serious.‍​

In​⁠ a peaceful era,⁠‌ it wouldn’t matter,⁠ but with the‌⁠ Corruptors unleashed, it​‌‍ seemed like destiny⁠ was clearing the⁠​​ path for Aint⁠‍ Armian.

“Are‍‍ you alright, Your‍ Highness?”

Almon’s‍ voice pulled him‌‌ from his thoughts.⁠⁠

“…I’m‍⁠ fine.”

“I‍‌ was worried you‌‍​ might have been⁠ hurt fighting the⁠‍ Corruptor.”

“I​‍ only used magic‍⁠⁠ once, there was‍‌ no reason for‍‍‌ injuries.”

Though‍‌⁠ in truth, he⁠‌ had suffered internal‍ damage and exhaustion,‍ potions had stabilized‌‍ him.

“I⁠​ want to ask​ you something, Almon.”​​

“Anything,‍ Your Highness.”

“What​ did you think​⁠⁠ of the Corruptor?”‍‍⁠

“In‍ what sense?”

“In⁠‌‌ terms of strength.”​‌‍

Almon​‍ hesitated. The Corruptor‌‍ was terrifying. Each⁠ clash shook him⁠⁠⁠ to his core;‌ he barely held⁠ on with his‌​​ protective aura.

Only​⁠ thanks to Aint⁠ weakening it, Ludger​‌ slowing it down,​​ and everyone attacking‌‍‌ together were they⁠‌ able to win.⁠‍​

“It​ was a monstrous‌​ being.”

“And​​ how many more​ do you think​‍ there are like⁠ him?”

“Many,​ no doubt. No‌ one could count‌​‌ them.”

“Exactly.”⁠​

“Are⁠ you worried about​‌⁠ Aint Armian?”

“Isn’t‌​ it suspicious? Just⁠ as the Corruptors⁠⁠ awaken, Aint suddenly​​​ seems to have​ recovered Armian’s secret‍​‌ sword technique.”

It⁠‍ was true, though​ it didn’t necessarily‍‍​ mean Aint controlled⁠⁠⁠ them. Probably a coincidence.

“Yes,​ coincidence…”

But​‍‌ coincidence or not,⁠ it benefited him.‌ And most would⁠‌ call that luck.‍‌

“I‌ won’t let Aint‌ or Armian enjoy‌ that luck.”

Because⁠‌ that didn’t suit‍⁠ Schwaben.

“We‍ must prove it.”‍‍​

“That‍ others can defeat‌‍⁠ demons as well?”‌‍​

“Yes.‍‍‍ That we don’t‍‍ need Armian. That​ we can do‍‍ it without him.”‍

A thousand years had⁠‌​ passed since the⁠ First Emperor defeated‍‍‌ King Colomo and‌⁠⁠ founded the Empire.‍

In⁠⁠‌ that time, humanity​⁠ had grown stronger—there⁠‍‌ were now ten‍ Royal Knights and‍‌ ten Archmages.

The‌ Electors and the‌​ Empire were more‌ powerful than ever.‍‌

There⁠⁠ was no longer‍ any need to⁠‍​ depend on Armian.‍‌

“But,​‌ Your Highness, you‌‍ said you weren’t⁠​‌ interested in the‍‌​ throne.”

Ludger‌⁠⁠ nodded.

“My⁠⁠‍ brother is more⁠​ suitable than I.‌‍⁠ He deserves to⁠ be emperor.”

It‌⁠​ wasn’t lack of​‍‌ ambition—it was acceptance.‌‌⁠

Precisely⁠ because of that,‌​ he couldn’t allow‌​ Schwaben to lose‍‌ the crown.

“When‍⁠ this mission ends,‌‌ I’ll go to‍⁠‌ the capital.”

His​ cold gaze settled⁠‌ on Aint, who‍​ was mingling with‍​‍ the nomads.

***‍‍

“So‌⁠​ Bairan is dead?”​‍‌

In‌‍ a laboratory full​​‍ of instruments and‍ testing materials.

Upon⁠​‍ the Shadow’s report,​⁠‌ the man at‌⁠ the desk reviewing⁠ documents let out​​​ a disbelieving chuckle.⁠

“No,⁠‍⁠ sir. Not dead—he⁠‌​ was captured.”

“Ah…‍​ so it’s the⁠ same. Or maybe‌ worse, for being‍‍ a fool? Did​⁠‌ they discover his​​ objective?”

“No,⁠ sir.”

“Could‍​​ you explain it​ in detail?”

“You​ know that some⁠⁠‌ students from the‍ Academy went on‍ deployment. Among them​ was Aint Armian.”​​

“And‍​⁠ blinded by glory,‌ he disobeyed my⁠‌⁠ order to stay‍‌ put.”

Too‌ stupid.

“Did‌ he really think‌ that, no matter‍‍ how great his‍ achievement, I’d use⁠ someone who dares‌ disobey me? What‌‌ does he carry‌ that thing on⁠‍ his shoulders for,⁠​⁠ if not to⁠‌ think?”

Such‍ short-sightedness and pettiness.⁠

“Tell‍​​ me what happened.”‍‌

“He​‌⁠ planned to gather​⁠ sacrifices, summon monsters,⁠ and then kill⁠ Aint Armian.”

“Why​ did he fail?”⁠

“While​ attacking desert clans‍‍‍ for sacrifices, he​‌ fell into a trap set by​⁠⁠ Altrierc.”

“A​⁠ trap?”

“Yes.⁠⁠‍ They coordinated with​ a clan and‌‌ waited for Bairan‌⁠⁠ to appear.”

“How​‌ did they know‌⁠‌ about Bairan’s plan?”‌‍

“That…”‍

The​ Shadow shut his‍ mouth. He didn’t​ know the exact‌‍​ background either.

“Reporting⁠‌‍ without knowing the‍ details is disappointing.”​

“F-forgive⁠‌ me!”

“Lower⁠ your voice.”

“Y-yes…”‌​

“What‍ level was the‌⁠ trap?”

“The⁠ Order of Iron‌ Knights and the​‍ Order of Wild‍ Blood, plus five‌ hundred elite soldiers.​​‍ And most importantly—all​​ the deployed Academy‌‍⁠ students were there.”‌‍

“So⁠ Aint Armian as‍​‌ well.”

The​‌ man understood why⁠ Bairan couldn’t escape.​​​

A thousand years had‌​ passed and they⁠ still couldn’t overcome⁠ Armian’s power. Without‌ Aint, maybe he‍​⁠ would’ve escaped.

“Bairan‍‍‌ was captured and‌‍ taken away… and‌‌ the others?”

“They⁠⁠ returned to Altrierc’s​⁠ wall.”

“…Activate⁠‌⁠ Bairan’s self-destruction. A fool like that⁠​ isn’t worth rescuing.”‌

“Yes,​‍ I will.”

Though‍ the report ended,​​‍ the man stayed‌ silent. Only the‍⁠‍ scritch-scratch of his​​⁠ pen sliding over‍‌ paper could be‌⁠ heard.

After‍ a while, flipping⁠‌ pages, he asked.‍

“And​⁠‍ the Pasa Bell?”‍​⁠

“The​ plan was slightly‌ delayed, but there‍⁠ were no major​⁠ setbacks.”

“In‌ fact, this is‌⁠ an opportunity. While⁠‌ their attention is‍ on that worm,​ you handle the‌ finishing blow.”

“Th-thank‍ you!”

“Don’t⁠‌‍ disappoint me like‌⁠​ that insect.”

“I’ll​‍ do my best!”‌⁠‍

The‌⁠⁠ Shadow bowed his‌⁠ head to the‍⁠ floor.

“You​‌ may leave.”

At‍‌ his command, the⁠​⁠ Shadow vanished. His⁠ eyes remained fixed​‍ on the documents‌​⁠ he’d been writing.⁠

“Soon.”‍

The‍‍​ end was in‍​⁠ sight. Almost.

Just‌ then, someone opened​‍​ the lab door.​⁠

“Aaron!‍‍ Locked in here‍​ again? If Professor⁠‍​ Rosalia isn’t around,⁠⁠ take a break.​‍⁠ Didn’t she say⁠​‌ she was on⁠ vacation?”

“Now‌⁠ that I’m near⁠⁠​ the end of‍⁠ the research, my⁠‍ hands itch.”

Aaron‍‍‌ gave a faint​ smile.

“You‌ know other professors​‍​ are keeping an‍​⁠ eye on you‌​ because of that‌ attitude, right?”

“I⁠​​ prefer to stay‍​ under Professor Rosalia.”⁠‌

“Of⁠‌​ course you do…”⁠

“So,‍⁠ why’d you come?”‌‍

“To‌ drag you out⁠​ to eat. You‌ haven’t eaten yet,​‌ have you? It’s​‌​ already one o’clock.”​

“Is​⁠​ it that late?”‍‍⁠

Aaron⁠⁠ got ready to⁠​ leave.

“Are‌ you taking that‍​ book again? Leave​ it for once!”​‌

“A⁠ mage should always⁠​ have their grimoire.”‍

With​ a gentle smile,‍​‍ Aaron left the‍​ laboratory with the‌‌⁠ other assistant.

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